


High Tea and Sympathy

by moodymarshmallow



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-16 10:09:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17547671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodymarshmallow/pseuds/moodymarshmallow
Summary: Caleb Widogast and Nott the Brave, finally getting to a financially stable position, take a moment to relax at a tea room in Zadash. A chance meeting with the proprietor, Caduceus Clay, leads to friendship, some complicated feelings, and maybe more.





	1. Chapter 1

Nott surveyed her surroundings with a curious mix of excitement and dismay. Everything around her was too cheerful, too cutesy, and too expensive looking for a person of her caliber, she thought. She spun around slowly, looking at the beautifully framed landscape paintings depicting the greener parts of the empire and the dark, carved wooden tables covered in fancy linens and fancier porcelain tea sets.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” she said, tilting her head at Caleb, who stood next to her in line. “Everything’s too...and I’m too...” she trailed off and looked at the crowd. There were lady elves with fancy hats and Sunday dresses, tieflings with elaborate hairstyles coiffed around their horns, and a table full of human men in smart sports coats and bow-ties. She tugged her hoodie--her _nicest_ hoodie--up to hide her face, but even as she did so she let out a sigh of relief at the realization that everyone was so engrossed in their own business that they weren’t bothering to look at the line in the lobby.

“You must not worry,” Caleb said quietly, taking his gaze off of the dazzlingly decorated cakes in the refrigerated display cases. “Just keep that hood up and we’ll get a table to ourselves. Nobody will bother us. Everyone is enjoying themselves far too much to pay attention to you and I.” But Caleb, too, felt a pang of nervousness as they waited. Taking Nott to a tea room had seemed like a good idea at the time--a celebration was in order, after all--but he hadn’t anticipated how crowded it would be, or how close the tables would be placed. Still, he had promised her something special and had gone through the trouble of finding clothing nicer than his second-hand sweaters and shearling coat to try to blend in with the surroundings even a little bit.

“I don’t know,” Nott repeated, worrying her hands together as Caleb stepped forward to the counter.

“Good afternoon,” Caleb said, a touch too much formality in his voice.

“Welcome to Melora’s Kettle,” the woman behind the counter said with a beaming smile. “What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping you had a table for me and my friend here.” Caleb gestured downward and Nott bowed her head so the hostess couldn’t see her face. “She’s a little shy,” he added. “Maybe if you had a table in the back, it would be for the best.”

“We can do that,” she said as she gathered two menus from behind the counter. “Follow me please.”

Nott and Caleb followed as they were led through a winding path of tightly packed tables to an empty one tucked against the back wall. “I’m afraid this is as private as it gets,” she said as she placed the menus in front of the chairs on opposite sides of the table. Nott scrambled into the chair facing the corner, her back to the crowd, visible relief on her face.

“This will do fine,” she said to the hostess, who gave her a smile and a nod before leaving them at their table. Nott spread her green hands out on the fine linen tablecloth in front of her and peeked over her shoulder at the room. “All these people are here for just a cup of tea?”

“It is a little more complicated than that. You can get tea everywhere, but this is an experience.” Caleb sat forward, clasping his hands together. “You’ll like it, Nott. There is a lot of food.”

“I do like food...” she acquiesced. “And if you say it’s good, then I believe you.”

Caleb offered her a thin, tired smile, and flicked his gaze over her head to see the strangest sight he’d seen all day--all week, for that matter.

Across the room, one of the servers was pouring tea from a delicate porcelain pot into an even more delicate tiny cup. The woman for whom he was pouring, a half-orc with a dainty fascinator pinned to her hair, was looking at him in warm delight as Caleb openly stared, at a complete loss for words.

The man pouring tea by the window was a firbolg, not the tallest Caleb had ever seen, but close. He towered over the tables and the teapot looked comically small in his large hands. Though he was dressed the same as the rest of the servers, black slacks, a black apron, and a white button-down with diaphanous lace sleeves, the effect was more striking when coupled with the long shock of pink hair that hid his face from Caleb’s view. When the server turned, it was to Caleb’s surprise to see that the other side of his head was shaved nearly to the scalp--a strikingly alternative look for the traditional surroundings. His eyes, which caught Caleb’s from across the room, were bright and fuchsia, clever and warm even at a distance. Caleb blinked when he met his gaze, flicking his eyes downward towards Nott, feeling suddenly as though he had been caught doing something wrong.

He had been staring, he thought, and that was rude, which accounted for the jump in his stomach when the firbolg’s eyes had met his own.

Before Caleb could continue his train of thought, the server was at the side of their table.

“Have you been helped yet?” he asked, and when Caleb opened his mouth to answer he noticed for the first time that the firbolg was holding a second pot of tea with his tail and once again found that words died on his tongue.

“No, not yet,” said Nott, eyeing Caleb curiously as he silently looked up at the server. “We haven’t even looked at the menu.”

“The menus are unnecessary,” Caleb said, finally finding his tongue again. “We’re going to have Afternoon Tea.” He took both menus and handed them over to the server, who tucked them into the front pocket of his apron.

“An excellent choice. Do you know what kind of tea you’d like, though? We have green tea, herbal tea, red tea, black tea, flavored tea...” he lifted the pot he was holding with his tail. “This is a lovely Winter’s Crest blend all the way from Tal’dorei, full of clove and nutmeg.” He then gestured to the pot in his hand. “This is a small batch organic earl grey--one of the most popular blends we offer, but there are a lot to choose from.” He dug one of the menus out of his pouch. “Are you sure you don’t need to look?”

“Ah. No. Thank you _Herr_...” Caleb trailed off, realizing only then that the server hadn’t introduced himself, nor was he wearing a name tag.

“Clay. Caduceus Clay,” he offered along with a smile.

“ _Herr_ Clay, then. I think we’ll have the earl grey.”

“That’s a good choice. We get our bergamot from the Menagerie Coast and we grow the leaves right out back.” With one large hand holding the lid of the teapot so it didn’t slip off when he poured, he carefully filled their cups. “Oh, you don’t have a sugar bowl. Hang on.” With that he was gone, surprisingly swift for his size, leaving Nott and Caleb looking at one another in stunned astonishment.

Caleb had expected a cheerful server. When one’s livelihood depending on tips one usually acted as upbeat and welcoming as possible, but the warmth radiating off of Caduceus’ smile was beyond anything Caleb could have prepared himself for. In a lot of ways that warmth was more overwhelming than the crowd or the lavish surroundings, and it was compounded by the fact that the longer Caduceus stood close to them, the more Caleb was struck by how attractive he was. He had a good face, framed by a pink chinstrap beard, with high cheekbones and pale eyelashes around those striking fuchsia eyes.

“Well, he’s kind of weird,” Nott said as she watched him disappear into the back of the tea room, her voice shaking Caleb out of his thoughts.

“ _Ja_ , but so are we. Look at us. Yesterday we were living in a leaky hotel room with no heat or television and today we are having high tea, just like any of these fancy folk.” He gestured to the room behind Nott.

“And we finally have an apartment to go back to,” Nott said, beaming.

“And we have an apartment to go back to,” Caleb agreed. “It may not have a television either, but who needs that anyway?”

“Not us!” Holding her cup in both hands, Nott took a sip of the tea, stuck out her tongue, then placed the cup back onto its saucer.

“Maybe wait for the sugar, _ja?_ ”

Just as Caleb spoke, a tiny bowl filled with sugar cubes was placed on the table in front of Nott.

“I put in your order,” Caduceus said as he placed a teapot on the table between Nott and Caleb. “And you’ll have your sorbet in a few minutes. If there’s anything else I can do for you, just ask.” He left them as Nott grabbed three sugar cubes with her hand, forgoing the silver tongs, and tossed them into her cup.

“So Caleb,” she began. “You went to the community college yesterday, right?” She waited until he nodded. “Did they give you any classes this semester?” she asked hopefully.

“ _Ja_ , two. I’m teaching _Remnants of The Age of Arcanum and Their Effects to the Modern Day_ again, and also remedial mathematics.”

“You’re teaching a _math_ class?” Nott tilted her head. “You’ve never done that before.”

“It is a very basic math class,” he said with a sigh. “You could teach it, most likely. They do not give very challenging assignments to adjunct professors with little work history and poor references. I was hoping for another history class but...” Caleb shrugged. “It is what it is. Grading arithmetic papers will be easy--it will leave me more time to work on the whole book thing.”

“And Jester said you could use her computer, right?”

“When I have the final draft, but until then it’s the typewriter for me.”

A different server, this one a pretty young woman with blonde hair piled into two buns on the top of her head, came to the table with little crystal goblets filled with three scoops of sorbet, one green, one red, and one white.

“You’ve got apple, raspberry, and coconut,” she said as she handed Caleb and Nott silver spoons. “Do you need anything else?” Caleb shook his head and the server left.

Nott dug her spoon into the apple sorbet, taking a large portion and popping it into her mouth. Caleb did the same, but with raspberry, and sat contemplative against the back of the chair as it melted on his tongue. Work at the community college was not glamorous or exciting, but it was work and that’s what mattered. Just like Nott’s job doing inventory at the new superstore next to the Invulnerable Vagrant. It was enough to put a roof over their heads--though they had had to ask Jester to put down the deposit--and that was more than they’d had in a long while.

When Caleb came out of his thoughts he found that he had eaten all of the sorbet and Caduceus was approaching the table with a three-tiered tray of miniature food items. Caduceus moved the teapot to the side before placing the tray, which had little claw feet like an old bathtub at the base, in the center of the table. Each tier of the tray was chock full of food. The first held miniature quiches, bite sized cucumber sandwiches, and small fried items the likes of which Caleb couldn’t make out by sight alone. The second tier was all fresh fruit: giant red strawberries and fine slices of melon and pineapple. The third tier was desserts: bite sized pies and slices of cake and dainty chocolate-covered mysteries. Caleb watched with a smile as Nott’s eyes widened in delight.

“Anything else I can do for you?” asked Caduceus. His face was placid, warm, and pleased as he watched Nott grab for one of the quiches.

“No, I think we are set,” Caleb said, glancing from Nott to Caduceus and offering him a thin smile that was met with a wide grin. For the briefest of moments, Caduceus caught Caleb’s eyes and Caleb had the feeling of being looked through, rather than at, like he was not being seen, but _known_. He felt a flush rise on his cheeks at the sensation and dropped his gaze, pretending to watch Nott gobbling up a second quiche. When he looked up again Caduceus was gone.

Caleb got to try about one-third of the food presented on the serving trays. Most of it was divine, though the cucumber sandwiches were a little lackluster, not out of any fault of the tea room, but due to the fact that cucumber, cream cheese, and white bread did not make for the most substantial of bites. Nott seemed to like them though, just as she liked the fried enoki mushrooms and raspberry filled chocolate cakes, and in the end that mattered to Caleb far more than his own stomach.

“What did you think?” he asked after Nott polished off the last square of opera cake.

“Well, it was all really good...” she began, absently stirring her tea after adding another sugar cube.

“But?”

“But there wasn’t much of it,” Nott said with a frown. “I’m still hungry.”

“That’s okay,” Caleb said gently. “We have a kitchen now. I can make some bacon when we get home.”

As if summoned by Nott’s still-empty stomach, Caduceus appeared again, this time holding a silver serving tray with two large slices of cake on it.

“Oh, no, we did not order--” Caleb said, suddenly stricken by the fear that, if something else was added to the check, the meal would end up costing more than what he had in his pocket.

“See, the cool thing about owning your own business is that you can give out things on the house without getting into trouble.” Caduceus said sotto voce as he set one of the plates of white, fluffy cake in front of Nott. “This is a replica royal wedding cake--same exact kind enjoyed by King Bertrand Dwendal. Well, not exactly the same. Ours is better.” He looked up from Nott as he stretched to place the second plate in front of Caleb, dropping him a deliberate wink as he set it down. Caleb felt his cheeks flush again as Caduceus set a small black leather folder on the table next to him. “You can take care of this whenever you like.”

“If you’re the owner then why are you waiting tables?” Nott asked before he could leave.

“Because it’s the best way to see all my happy customers,” Caduceus said jovially and gestured around. “Look at everything I’d be missing if I stayed in the back.” He gave Caleb one last glance before leaving them to their cake.

As soon as Caduceus was gone, Nott tore into the wedding cake like a hungry hound. When she was done, Caleb swapped plates with her to let her devour his too. Cake eradicated, she sat back with a pleased expression plastered on her little goblin face as Caleb pulled out his wallet.

Though he’d known beforehand how much it would cost, it was still difficult to take the eighty dollars out of his wallet and place it between the leather folds. In his estimation it had been worth the money, but knowing it might be a while before he could amass that much gain made the nervous thoughts rise to the forefront of his mind. They had _just_ gotten the apartment. They had _just_ gotten the jobs. Caleb _could_ have put the money into the strongbox under the bed or used it to start to pay Jester back. But living lean had worn them both down. Ramen noodles and five-day old bread the grocery stores were about to throw out could only sustain a person for so long.

Caleb placed the leather folder on the edge of the table and tucked a ten dollar bill under the teapot. He sat back, sipped his tea--it _was_ a very good earl grey--and waited for Caduceus to return. When he did, he tucked the folder back into his apron with a smile.

“Stay as long as you like,” he said as he turned to leave. “And come back often.” He tossed a smile over his shoulder before milling through the crowd to tend to another table.

Caleb watched him go, the pink puff on the end of tail bobbing as he took careful steps to keep himself from knocking into any of the chairs. He returned to the half-orc woman and leaned to speak with her, his face attentive and pleased. Caleb watched, silently, until he felt a tug on his sleeve.

“Caleb, don’t you think we should be going?” Nott asked, following his gaze.

“ _Ja_. _Ja_ we should.” Caleb got to his feet, rubbed suddenly sweaty palms against the sides of his pants, and took Nott’s hand to lead her out of the restaurant. Despite the lighter wallet and despite the fact that Nott had eaten a great majority of the food, Caleb felt somewhat more whole after his time in Melora’s Kettle, and when the brisk air of the Zadash afternoon hit his face he found that he felt warm anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

Caleb hadn’t planned on returning. Even a pot of tea was prohibitively expensive when you could buy a box of Lipton for three dollars--two on sale, maybe one-fifty at the discount grocery store--but it  _had_ been really good tea and it _had_ been a fun experience and nobody said he had to buy something as expensive as afternoon tea when it was just himself. So when he found himself walking the long way to the library, notebook in hand, he stopped in front of Melora’s Kettle and hovered there for a solid five minutes before opening the door to the sound of tinkling bells.

He was unsurprised to find the tea room packed when he entered the lobby, and as he waited in line he wondered if he was going to be able to get a table after all. He wasn’t entirely sure what had drawn him back--the atmosphere, he supposed. It was a livelier place to work on his manuscript than his apartment or the library, for sure, and as he clutched the notebook under his arm he told himself that was the only reason he’d come.

Despite his worries about capacity, the hostess handed him a menu and led him to the same table in the back that he had sat at with Nott the week prior. It was furthest from the big bay windows in front of the tea room, and therefore farthest away from the natural light. He reasoned that it remained empty despite how many patrons there were because people preferred sunshine with their tea. The table he sat at was already set, so he moved the teacup and saucer to the side to make room for his notebook. He placed it on the table, opened it to a half-written page, and bent his head over it, pen in hand.

“Happy to see you back so soon.” A voice came from the other side of the table and when Caleb lifted his head he was looking into the smiling visage of Caduceus Clay, who was holding a pot of tea in each hand and had what looked like five menus poking out of his apron pocket. The long side of his pink hair was pinned back behind a floppy ear with a sparkling clip shaped like a leaf. “Want a sample? I’ve got a Zemnian green and a fun floral blend I created myself.”  

“Ah. As I am Zemnian myself I ought to try the green.” Caleb had, in some small part of himself, expected his server to be Caduceus again and returning to find the firbolg once again towering over his table gave him a funny, contented feeling in his stomach.

“Great choice.” Caduceus poured the rich green tea into Caleb’s cup, bending slightly to do so, glancing up at Caleb through pale, pretty eyelashes. “Want a menu this time?”

“ _Ja_ , I think so.” Finding his mouth dry, Caleb took a sip of the tea as Caduceus placed one of the teapots on the table so he could hand Caleb a menu from his pocket.

“Tea selection in the beginning, baked goods in the middle, and meals at the end,” he said as he handed it over. Caleb took it, noting pale pink polish on Caduceus’ nails, and opened it to the middle. “Anything you want, just ask.” Caduceus picked up the teapot again and squeezed around the packed tables, keeping his tail wrapped around his waist to avoid bumping into things with it.

“You are right, Nott,” Caleb whispered under his breath, in Zemnian. “A very weird man.”

Caleb scanned through the baked goods and chose a scone. As it was the least expensive option he reasoned that it would be small, and as he had eaten before leaving for the library he wasn’t particularly hungry. Between scribbling down a few words, he absently scratched at the inner side of his forearm, through his sleeve, and sipped at the tea until Caduceus returned.

Caleb had been wrong. The scone that arrived was far from the small bite he had expected. Instead, it was the size of the plate it was served on. Balking at the sheer amount of warm, crumbly pastry set before him he asked, “Do you think I could possibly have part of this to go? My stomach is not quite this large right now.” With a nod, Caduceus disappeared, returning with a knife and a cardboard container stamped with a compostable symbol on the lid. Caleb cut off a third of the scone for himself and placed the rest in the box for Nott. With a thank you to Caduceus, he went to work on his manuscript.

It took Caduceus returning three times to fill Caleb’s cup before Caleb noticed he was getting an oversized amount of attention from the oversized man. The fourth time he came back Caleb put his hand over his cup before he could pour.

“You must be a very busy man if you pour tea for every patron,” he said as he looked up from his notebook. He offered a lean smile that, despite the weariness behind it, reached his eyes when he met Caduceus’.

“I would be, if I did,” he agreed, his smile wide and warm. “But sometimes there’s a patron who needs a little extra attention. I can always tell.” He picked up Caleb’s empty cup when he uncovered it, a big, slightly furry hand brushing the edge of Caleb’s notebook. “A writer?” he asked.

“Sometimes. Mostly not. But I try.” His gaze flicked from Caduceus’ face to the darkening sky outside of the bay windows. “Scheiße,” he muttered under his breath, having not realized how much time had passed. “I need to go,” he said, standing quickly. “Thank you for your hospitality, _Herr_ Clay.” He took the offered bill, handed Caduceus ten dollars, and took his scone to go.

“Come back soon!” Caduceus called cheerily after him as he left.

It was chilly outside of Melora’s Kettle, and a pang of regret hit Caleb in the chest. It would have been nice to stay in the warmth a little longer, get a little more writing done, but Nott would be home for a while before her graveyard shift and he didn’t want her to be alone all day.

* * *

 

“Nott,” Caleb said as he entered the apartment, kicking his shoes off at the door. “Nott, I brought you something!” The apartment was as chilly as the outdoors and he took a long look at the thermostat by the door, which was kept low to keep the heat from turning on when they weren’t there. After an internal debate, he clicked the thermostat up a few degrees, listening as the heat kicked on and began to warm the apartment. At his feet, a Bengal tabby flopped to the ground and began contentedly pawing at his pant leg. “Hey Frumpkin, hey buddy,” he said and crouched, petting the cat’s exposed belly. Frumpkin began milk-treading at the air above him as Caleb pet him, his purr rumbling in his little chest.

“I thought you said we weren’t going to use the heat,” Nott said as she entered the room from the small kitchenette. “I thought you said it was too expensive?”

“Just a little for right now,” Caleb said as he straightened up and handed her the box with the scone in it. “I will turn it off in a few moments.”

“Maybe I could steal us a space heater from work, so we could just heat up one room instead of the whole place?”

“Ah. No.” Caleb followed Nott back into the kitchenette, where she had been pouring a bowl of store brand cereal. “Small things, remember? Small things that will not be missed. I can check the thrift stores for the rest.”

“What’s this anyway?” Nott lifted the take-out box.

“I went back to Melora’s Kettle. I had a feeling that it would be a good place to write, and I was correct.” Frumpkin wound around his legs as he opened the cupboard and took out a can of cat food.

Nott placed the box on the counter and opened it up, then, after a moment’s deliberation, tipped the bowl of cereal back into the box in favor of the scone. “Wasn’t it expensive?” Nott asked as she carried the box to the small card table and folding chairs in the dining area. She sat, picked up the still enormous scone, and took a bite.

“ _Ja,_ a little. But the sooner I can get this book done, the sooner I can publish it and start receiving royalties. I am going to Jester’s tomorrow after work to see if I have earned enough from e-book sales to withdraw anything yet.” With Frumpkin whining at his feet, he popped the top on the can, scooped the food into a small bowl, and set it on the ground next to Frumpkin’s water dish.

“My paycheck will be coming soon,” she said in between bites. “This is really good.” For a while, both Nott and Frumpkin ate in silence while Caleb rooted around in the refrigerator, finally coming out with a bowl covered in plastic wrap. Setting it on the counter beside himself he turned on the front burner on the stove and placed a slightly battered pan atop of it. He peeled back the wrap and sniffed the two chicken thighs before pouring a little oil into the pan as it heated up.

“Have your food stamps come in yet?” he asked while Nott devoured the scone. It had been four dollars--more than a loaf of bread--but seeing Nott enjoy it made a little bit of Caleb’s guilt at spending the money melt away. There was so little in the way of special things in their lives, and even if a scone wasn’t phenomenal, it was still a spot of light in the tedium of ramen noodles and boxed macaroni and cheese.

“Yeah,” said Nott through a mouthful. “It’s not a lot but if we only go to Bottom Dollar it will be okay.”

As she spoke, Caleb noticed the spoon Nott had placed next to the bowl she had been using for cereal. It was much nicer than the dollar store spoons they had in the drawer. It had a scrolling design and felt heavier than their spoons when Caleb picked it up. He recognized the design immediately. He had just been using one of these spoons to stir a bit of honey into his green tea.

“Nott.” Caleb walked over to the card table with the spoon in his hand. “Did you take this from Melora’s Kettle?” Under normal circumstances Nott’s kleptomania didn’t bother him; it had its uses too, there were things they simply wouldn’t have if Nott hadn’t managed to take them without being noticed, but there was something about that spoon that disappointed him.

“Yeah,” she said again. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Ah. Well.” Caleb ran his thumb over the scrolled end of the spoon thoughtfully as he sat in the folding chair opposite hers. “It’s nice. But _Herr_ Clay was very nice to us. Perhaps it would be better to not steal from people who are very nice, _ja_?”

“It’s just a spoon,” Not said, cocking her head curiously at Caleb. “I was going to take a teacup but I couldn’t fit it in my hoodie pocket without anyone noticing. I just thought it might be nice to have a souvenir.”

“I understand.” he sat with her in silence until the oil in the pan began to sizzle. He stood and placed the chicken thighs in the pan, grabbing the salt shaker Nott had stolen from a diner about a month ago. From the cupboard he pulled out some spices: garlic powder, onion powder, and thyme. He sprinkled them all onto the chicken, finishing it off with a squeeze from a lemon half that he put back into the refrigerator. “Would it be okay if I took it back?” he finally asked.

“Yeah, I guess,” Nott muttered as she finished the scone. “If it means that much to you, of course you can take it back.”

“I’m sorry.” Caleb sighed as he watched the chicken, poking it absently with the spatula. “How about this? I take it back and I bring you one of the teacups they have for sale in the lobby? I will have royalties soon and that way you can have your souvenir.”

“Only if that’s what you want.”

“Mm.” Caleb flipped the chicken as Frumpkin, not satisfied with a can of mushy cat food, wound around his legs, begging. “How has work been going?”

“It’s okay. I count things and make check marks on lists. I put things on shelves.” She shrugged again. “Since I work at midnight there aren’t a lot of people in the store to see me. I like that.” Having finished the scone she shook the crumbs into the garbage and put the box on the counter to use later.

“We’ll figure this out soon, Nott, I promise.” Caleb crouched to look her in her face. “I am studying. Beau has been taking me to the Cobalt Soul library and I am learning a lot. It has been hard to practice but I am doing what I can.”

“I know. I believe you, Caleb.” Nott took a step forward and hugged him tight. Caleb put his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes.

“We are doing good, Nott,” he whispered into her shoulder. “We are finally doing good. And things will only get better. I will do everything I can to make sure of that.”

* * *

 

Jester’s bedroom was an explosion of floral color, beginning with gentle pink walls rimmed with fairy lights shaped like tiny roses. Her bedspread was a tropical yellow and covered with bird of paradise flowers and there were sheer white curtains over her windows. The dresser and desk were clean white and Caleb, in his ratty coat, could not have looked more out of place as he sat at her desk, hunched over her computer.

Jester sat on the middle of the large bed, painting her toenails a blinding hot pink. Nugget lay next to Jester’s side, panting excitedly before blinking out of existence and appearing under the desk on Caleb’s feet.

“So how many copies have you sold?” Jester asked as she lifted her foot in the air, wiggling her toes as she admired the polish.

“Quite a few,” Caleb said as he scrolled through the self-publishing page. “The reviews have helped immensely and I have sold far more of _Bigby’s Hand in Hand_ than I did of _The Raven’s Whisper_.”

“Ugh, _The Raven’s Whisper_ was _soooooo_ good though.” Jester leaned down to begin painting the other foot. “I loved how passionate he was and when he confessed his love...” Jester sighed dreamily.

“ _Ja_ ,” he said absently, scrolling down to the royalties section. “But people like happy endings. I have learned my lesson about that.”

“How far along are you on  _We’ll Start with Courage_?”

“It’s coming. I will have a first draft soon.” Caleb sat back from the computer, a grin slowly spreading over his face. “Jester, I have earned another fifty dollars from selling my silly little romance books.”

“That’s great!” she shouted, and from under the desk Nugget barked excitedly before blinking on top of her, a great whoosh of air escaping her chest as the dog dropped onto her chest from midair. She held her bottle of nail polish up carefully so that Nugget, now licking her face, didn’t knock it over. “Nugget please. No blinking on top of momma when she’s doing her nails, remember?” Nugget only continued licking until she used the hand not holding nail polish to push him off.

Caleb didn’t notice the dog-related drama unfolding on Jester’s bed as he was too busy mentally spending his new earnings. Twenty for groceries and sundries, for sure, but if Melora’s kettle was the best place to work, as it seemed like it might be for the time being, thirty dollars could get him there three times and he could maybe finish his manuscript in the process. Maybe not twenty for groceries though; he remembered that he had promised Nott a teacup and since her food stamps had come in they could afford groceries without it.

While Jester struggled with Nugget, a thought occurred to him. In the past week and a half he had gone to Melora’s Kettle twice and was planning for three more visits. Him. Caleb Widogast. The man who shopped exclusively at dollar stores, thrift stores, and discount grocery stores while squirreling away every spare penny just in case was eagerly imagining himself paying ten dollars for a pot of tea and a scone three times over. It was the atmosphere, he reasoned again, that made it so appealing. It was no different than how young authors-to-be with expensive laptops sat in coffee shops downing espresso drinks while they worked on what they surely thought was the Great Dwendalian Novel. That was all. The atmosphere.

Caleb logged out of Jester’s computer and pushed away from her desk. “Thank you again for all your help,” he said as he stood. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Caleb.” Jester swung her legs over the side of the bed, setting the nail polish on the nightstand as she moved to hug him. “You’re always welcome to use my computer, or borrow my books, or whatever you need. We’re friends, remember?”

“ _Ja_.” He gave her a squeeze before picking up his messenger bag and swinging it over his shoulder. “We are friends.”

“I want to read that book when you’re done with it.”

“Of course, of course. You will have the first printed copy.”

“And give Nott a hug for me,” she said as she led him to the front door.

“Will do.” he stepped into the chilly Zadash afternoon, tightening his coat around his throat and giving Jester one last wave before making his way into the city.

* * *

 

Caleb stood in front of the chalkboard in a pair of his best trousers and a turtleneck sweater that Nott had mended when it began to unravel at the cuffs. Before him sat thirty students looking up at him with varying levels of attentiveness. He tried to ignore the anxiety churning in his stomach as he surveyed them, trying not to meet eyes with any of them without appearing as though he was looking past them.

Teaching had not been his first choice of vocation, nor his second or third, but once he was able to get past the social anxiety enough to speak in public, his knowledge of Exandrian history made him a good fit as a teacher. His lack of graduate degree, however, kept him out of a position at one of the larger universities, which was fine, by his estimation. It kept him from making a name for himself in academia, which would have put him in an overexposed position and that would have been worse than the poor pay and long hours of an adjunct community college professor.

“...and the cloak is said to have the ability to absorb hostile magical spells cast upon its wearer as well as expelling the energy it absorbs back at the spellcaster who attempted to harm the one wearing it,” he continued his lecture on the vestiges of divergence, then paused, catching one of the students in the back row glancing down at his cell phone. “This is your last warning. If I see cell phones out in my class I _will_ take them away.” He looked around at the students who were glancing out of the corners of their eyes, trying to see who had prompted Caleb’s response. “Class is not even an hour. You can do without.” With that he picked up an eraser and began to wipe down the board. “You can go,” he said, and the room erupted into the sounds of chairs scraping and bags rustling as everyone began getting up at once.

Caleb waited as they filed out, crouching behind the podium to gather up his messenger bag and coat, only realizing that a student had stayed behind to speak to him when he almost collided with her on his way out the door.

“Can I help you?” he asked, mentally calculating how long it would take to get across the courtyard and to his next class, given that it started in ten minutes he didn’t give himself the best odds of making it.

“Yeah. Um.” The student, a young woman with large round glasses, shifted from one foot to the other. “I wanted to ask you about the essay...”

“My office hours are from 2-4, can you come then?”

“No, I have a class then,” she said softly, lowering her head a little. Caleb held back a sigh and resigned himself to being late to his next class. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to get the essay done on time,” she said when he prompted her.

She was the third student that week to ask for an extension, and Caleb felt his shoulders drop a little bit. Extensions meant grading essays got dragged out until it overlapped with grading other assignments, leading to long, overwhelmed nights. Before he could say anything, she continued talking.

“My mom started working nights and I have to take care of my brothers when I get back from school, and I work weekends so I’m really behind on the reading. I’m sorry...” There was shame in her voice and Caleb felt a pang of guilt in his chest at just having the thought of what a hassle it would be for _him_ to give an extension.

“It’s okay.” He gave her what he hoped was his best understanding smile. “Take a week, and tell me if you need more time.”

“Thank you so much,” she said in a rush and exited the room, jogging down the hallway to what he presumed was her next class. He knew her situation wasn’t unusual for a community college student. Being less expensive and more inclusive than most four-year universities, community colleges often attracted students who had to juggle poverty and other hardships while trying to get an education. As he walked to his next class, hoping students didn’t leave because he was late and they assumed he wasn’t coming, he wondered if working here and doing some good could somehow form him into a better person.

He doubted it, but there was at least a chance.


	3. Chapter 3

As it happened, there had been no point in returning the spoon. When Caleb attempted to give it back, pretending that Nott had accidentally picked it up when she left, Caduceus insisted that he keep it. After an exceedingly polite disagreement with Caleb insisting and Caduceus declining, he stuck the spoon back into his messenger bag.

It took three more visits to Melora’s Kettle for Caleb to introduce himself to Caduceus. The first two times the table he had begun to think of as his was free and both times Caduceus appeared, as if by magic, with a big smile and Zemnian green tea blends. The tea was always delicious and the scones were still the size of his head and Nott still delighted at them when he brought them home.

It was the third time he went back with his nearly finished manuscript that he was startled to find a brass dragonborn woman sitting at “his” table. She was wearing a red coat with a big fur ruff and a dainty hat and she held the tiniest teacup to her mouth. Caleb’s shoulders dropped a little as he noticed her. The excitement building in his stomach at expecting his seat and Caduceus began to fizzle out as he stood in the lobby, taking his eyes away from the dragonborn before it was apparent that he was staring. He felt a pang of guilt for being jealous of the woman, who was doing nothing but enjoying herself, and reminded himself that nothing in the restaurant belonged to him other than the tea he paid for.

It was then that Caduceus, carrying two sets of three-tiered trays laden with tiny treats and a pot of tea in his tail nearly collided with Caleb. When Caduceus stopped short it gave Caleb the closest look at him that he’d gotten yet, and Caleb realized, as he looked, how much he liked everything he saw. Finally it clicked. A flush rose on his cheeks as Caduceus smiled down at him, his height putting him head and shoulders over Caleb who, while being a fairly tall man, could not compare to a firbolg. From that position he could see the velvet fuzz that covered firbolg’s skin and the fact that Caduceus had missed a small spot while shaving. That last detail stuck with Caleb, it was something he needed to be so close to see that it made it strangely intimate. Without meaning to he visualized Caduceus standing in front of the mirror, carefully trimming his beard, before shaking the thought out of his head, feeling almost as if he had intruded on a private moment by imagining it.

“Nearly didn’t see you there Mr...” Caduceus began with a smile, trailing off to a stop when he realized he didn’t have a name to supply. Despite holding what was obviously food meant for full tables, he hovered by Caleb for a moment, meeting his eyes in that searching, knowing way.

“Caleb. Caleb Widogast.” Caleb nearly offered a hand to shake but stopped half-way, remembering Caduceus’ full hands.

“Mr. Caleb then. Glad you came back.” He lifted the trays. “Let me put these down and I’ll get you a table.”

Caleb nodded, mentally kicking himself for being so dense as to not realize that half of the reason he was coming to Melora’s Kettle was tall, cheerful, and pastel. Part of it was clearly the attention, he knew that. Outside of Jester, Beau, and Nott, he had few friends and even among those three there was a certain distance between himself and everyone but Nott. The care lavished on him by Caduceus felt good, felt better than the warm tea, and the realization that he was seeking out that kind of attention embarrassed him.

He was turning to leave when from behind him he heard Caduceus’ voice.

“Mr. Caleb?”

Caleb hesitated. There was something about Caduceus’ voice that just made his name sound good on his lips. Embarrassment be damned, he wanted to hear more of it. He turned.

“Didn’t you want a table?”

“ _Ja_ ,” he said after a brief pause. He had the money, he had the time, and this was the visit that he planned on buying Nott’s teacup. That was enough to stay, despite feeling flushed and foolish that he was not able to understand what was going on in his own head.

“How about one by the window today?” Caduceus asked as he walked by his side to the dining room. There was an empty table front and center of the bay windows and Caleb lowered himself into the chair, shrugging off his messenger bag and setting it on the floor beside him. “You know, you said you’re not a writer but I happen to have a copy of a book with your name on it.” Caduceus grinned. “ _The Raven’s Whisper_ , right?”

“Ha.” He took a deep breath and tried to tamp down the immediate panic that rushed through him upon being recognized. There was a sense of overexposure in having someone know him outside of the capacity in which he introduced himself. “I never expect anyone to have read my books, to be honest,” he said with a mixture of anxiety and pride. Some small part of him didn’t even want to have a physical body, because that meant someone could recognize him and know him, but there was also a sliver of pride in knowing Caduceus had potentially enjoyed his books that made his chest puff and his heart swell. “Do you have a physical copy or an ebook?”

“Oh, a physical copy. Think I could get a signature?”

“For a fan? _Ja_.” Caleb smiled faintly. “You know,” he began, gathering the courage to look Caduceus in the eyes. “I have never tried any of the blends you’ve made. What do you have that you think I’d like?”

Caduceus beamed. “For you? I’ve got a Zemnian green with lemon peel and pomegranate seeds. Very tart but still has that kind of earthy freshness. Good with honey or raw sugar. Tastes just like a summer’s day.”

“That sounds nice.” he said. It was warmer by the window than in the back so he shed his coat after Caduceus left. He pulled his notebook out of his messenger bag and placed it in front of him, staring blankly at the words. A few more chapters--and a happy ending, of course--and it would be finished. There was something like apprehension in him as he opened to the last page he’d written on and reread, for the innumerable time, the last few sentences. Finishing another book would leave him with a hole in his life, an empty space once filled by an obsession over perfect paragraphs and artful prose, leaving him instead with the desperate itch to find something new to write about. It had happened before and the fact that his ideas notebook was empty left him nervous to finish _We’ll Start with Courage_.

Caduceus returned with not just the tea but the same kind of scone Caleb had ordered before, placing it carefully in the center of the table, avoiding his notebook. “So how long have you been writing?” he asked as he poured him a cup of tea, bending so his hair cascaded over his face, hiding half of it from Caleb’s view.

“Oh, you know. For a while.” Caleb examined Caduceus’ face while he wasn’t looking, eyes skimming over his pale pink eyelashes, his flat nose, and tracing the curve of his lips. The ache that started in his chest dropped to his stomach when Caduceus’ gaze flicked upwards and he caught Caleb looking. Though it was certain that he noticed, all Caduceus did was give Caleb a placid smile.

“Well,” he said as he straightened up. “I’m looking forward to seeing the new one when it comes out.” He turned to go before adding, over his shoulder. “As always, anything you need? You got it. Just ask.”

Something new occurred to Caleb as he watched him walk off, pink puff on the end of his tail bobbing as he made his way through the crowd. Telling a person to ask when they needed something was basic courtesy and it was par for the course that a server in a restaurant would make themselves available for whatever the customer wanted, however...

What was it, exactly, that Caduceus expected him to ask for? He stressed it every time.

_Anything you need_.

* * *

 

It was finally a warm day in Zadash when Caleb decided to make his way to the library. He made sure Frumpkin had fresh water before leaving, sans shearling coat, messenger bag slung over his shoulder. After walking a few blocks in the comfortable sunlight, he made the decision to go the long way, to stop at the bank to withdraw his last transfer of royalties before going to the library to study. Along the way he passed the community garden, a large plot of public land reserved for a neighborhood garden. Occasionally he and Nott volunteered, pulling weeds in exchange for fresh tomatoes, and as he passed he noticed there were many people working there--drawn by the nice weather, he figured, his eyes flicking from an elderly woman with a hoe, to an elf with a trowel, to a large person in a sun hat crouching down over some carrots.

There was something about the scene that struck Caleb, and for a moment he just watched, taking a mental picture of the scene so he could use it later, maybe in a book or a short story, to try to give the reader the same calm, content feeling that now rested in his chest.

After a while he turned to leave, scratching an itch on the inside of his forearm.

“Mr. Caleb?” A familiar voice called from the garden and Caleb stopped dead, a flush of heat rising in him from the rumbly happy tone reaching for him from behind.

He turned and realized that the large person in the sunhat had been Caduceus. He was now walking to Caleb with a basket in hand. Caleb, now warmer than the sunlight warranted, waited patiently as Caduceus, apparently not nearly as speedy when he wasn’t waiting tables, ambled towards him.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Caduceus said once he had joined him on the sidewalk. For a moment all Caleb could do was stare. Used to seeing Caduceus in the fancy black and white uniform of Melora’s Kettle, he had been completely unprepared to see him in green drop crotch pants with sandals and a multi-colored vest over a white tunic, all topped off with a floppy sun hat and gardening gloves. Caduceus’ hair was tucked under the hat with a few tendrils trailing artfully down his face and Caleb found himself sorely tempted to reach up and tuck those tendrils behind one floppy ear. Caleb’s stomach fluttered as Caduceus came to stand over him.

“How are you doing today, Mr. Caleb?” Caduceus asked when Caleb said nothing, smiling calmly from under the shade of his hat.

“I’m doing well, how about yourself?” he asked when he finally found his tongue. The sun felt warmer than ever and Caleb had forgotten why he’d left the house to begin with. However, he was glad that whatever it was had taken him past the garden.

“Doing well as well.” Caduceus took off his gardening gloves and put them in a basket along with a pile of radishes, potatoes, and what looked like stubby little carrots. “It’s a nice day, isn’t it?” He waited as Caleb nodded. “Where are you headed today?”

“Oh, you know. Just going for a walk.” He raised one arm to begin scratching at his forearm but he stopped himself halfway, pretending to adjust the strap on his messenger bag instead. “You garden here?” he asked, trying not to kick himself for asking such an obvious question.

“Yeah,” Caduceus said, tossing a glance back at the garden and the old woman who, despite her apparent age and frailty, was now vigorously tearing out weeds. “I like it. I don’t have room for vegetables in the greenhouse, and I don’t have a backyard at home so this is the only chance I get to grow fresh food.”

“Greenhouse?” he asked with a curious tilt of his head. He had a suspicion that he knew what Caduceus was talking about, but that didn’t matter. All he wanted in that moment was to keep talking.

“Yeah, behind the restaurant. We grow tea back there.” Caduceus smiled that calming, friendly smile, and Caleb felt an ache in  his chest that joined the butterflies that had taken up permanent residence in his stomach. “You know, I could give you a tour sometime when we’re not busy. I’ve got one plant that’s over a hundred years old.” The pride was apparent in Caduceus’ voice and a small smile ghosted over Caleb’s lips at hearing it.

“I think I would like that. I _would_ like that,” he corrected himself. “I can bring you a signed book and you can show me your plants,” he said, the thought _you show me yours and I’ll show you mine_ suddenly flashing through his head and making a flush rise on his cheeks. Sweat was beginning to bead on his spine and roll slowly down his back as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“That sounds nice,” Caduceus said serenely. He glanced into the sky over Caleb’s head. “I should really get going. It was good seeing you again Mr. Caleb.”

“And you,  _Herr_ Clay.” There was a pang of regret in Caleb’s chest as Caduceus gave him a little nod and began walking away with his vegetables. He couldn’t think of anything to say, anything to ask to keep him standing there, and had finally remembered that he was trying to go to the library. He watched him go in silence until a stream of cursing from the old woman in the garden knocked him out of his reverie. He glanced at her, considered asking if she was okay and thought the better of it when he watched her set the hoe against the side of the fence, muttering to herself about how she’d had enough for the day.

With that he turned and followed the course he had set before stopping at the garden, heading towards the Cobalt Soul’s archives to see Beau and read one of the more esoteric tomes the monks were unwilling to lend out.


	4. Chapter 4

At Melora’s Kettle, sunlight filtered softly through the bay windows, brightening up the dining room to the point where the overhead lights were hardly necessary. The tea room was, as always, quite full, and a variety of people sat at the dainty tables. A brass dragonborn woman, now a regular, sat at the back corner table which she preferred. Near the center of the dining room sat a gaggle of young women, all eating raspberry angel food cake with jasmine tea, and near the window sat an elf in a floppy hat opposite a young man with fuzzy ears and a fluffy fox tail.

From the register, Caduceus surveyed the dining room with pride before flicking his eyes to the group of people sitting on comfy sofas in the lobby. Any day where people had to wait in the lobby was a good day because it meant business was booming. More business meant more reviews, more word-of-mouth advertising, and more opportunities for sourcing better ingredients to improve blends and baked goods. It wasn’t that Caduceus cared about profit, not really. The people were what mattered most. The women in the center, for example, were from the local college and celebrating good grades. He’d brought them free cake to aid in their celebration because the price of a slice of cake meant little compared to the way their faces lit up upon being pampered. Freebies and reasonable prices meant that his profits were leaner than they could have been, but since inheriting Melora’s Kettle from his parents, profit had been the last thing on Caduceus’ mind.

The bell above the door tinkled as it opened and he glanced up from his reverie to see two people passing through the threshold. One was very familiar, and a warm surge of pleasure rolled down Caduceus’ spine as he looked into the face of Caleb Widogast, backlit by the golden rectangle of the open door. He smiled easily as Caleb came to the register to ask for a table, feeling his heart flutter a little at how, in the warm sunlight, his hair gleamed copper and the bags under his eyes were a little less pronounced. He was handsome in his weary sort of way, and the prospect of getting him to smile energized Caduceus like a good cup of tea.

It was then that he noticed the person following Caleb into the tea shop. A pretty young tiefling woman with blue skin and hair, wearing a white sundress with embroidered pink flowers on the chest and hem, came to stand at Caleb’s side, nudging him with her shoulder.

Before Caleb and his guest could ask for a table, the dragonborn woman came up to pay. Caduceus gave her half of his attention while watching Caleb’s guest pulling excitedly on his arm, pointing to the refrigerated display cases.

“Caleb! Look at those cakes!” she said with wide eyes and a big smile. “That one looks like a wedding cake, and look at those adorable petit fours! I want to have one of everything.” She nudged him with her shoulder again, giving him a warm smile.

“If you think that’s impressive wait until you see the afternoon tea service,” Caleb said to his companion, who grinned, exposing tiny fangs. The warmth with which he regarded her was undeniable.

“Good to see you again,” Caduceus said with a touch more formality than he’d used with Caleb in the past. A certain amount of disappointment settled within his chest as he gave the tiefling a smile. It wasn’t the end of the world, not really, but Caduceus couldn’t deny that the excitement upon seeing Caleb had dwindled to the point where he wasn’t even sure if he should wait on his table. “The table in the back is open,” he said, “but I have one near the window if you’d like.”

“Thank you _Herr_ Clay. I think we’ll take the one by the window, eh Jester?” he asked the tiefling named Jester (whether that was a given name or a nickname Caduceus couldn’t be sure) who nodded eagerly.

Caduceus took two menus from behind the counter and gave an apologetic smile to the party of eight who were waiting for seats before leading Caleb and Jester to the table near the elf in the hat and his companion. He placed menus on either side of the table, in front of them, and pulled a small notebook out of his apron.

“Do  you know what you’d like or did you need some time to look at the menu?” he asked, noticing a small change in Caleb’s face, a fall in the corner of his lips and a tiny furrowing of the brow that was quickly covered by a forced smile.

“We will have the afternoon tea service,” Caleb said as he settled into his seat, shifting his gaze to Jester who smiled warmly. “I remember that being very nice with the earl grey so maybe that, unless you prefer something else Jester?”

“That sounds nice. I haven’t had afternoon tea since I was in Nicodranas.” She inclined her head to Caduceus. “Is it like the high tea in Nicodranas?”

“I’ve never been to Nicodranas,” said Caduceus with a mild smile. “But the bergamot in our earl grey is from the Menagerie Coast.”

“Well, if it’s from the Menagerie Coast it _must_ be good,” Jester said excitedly, smoothing her skirt on her lap.

“It’s the best.” Caduceus wrote their order in his notebook and put the menus in his apron pocket, his tail swishing a little sadly as he turned. “I’ll go get your tea.”

* * *

 

In the kitchen Caduceus chewed on his lower lip a little bit, wondering how he’d been so wrong about Caleb. He was usually a very good judge of character, he thought as he scooped loose leaf tea into a strainer and sat it inside the teapot it was designed for. He had thought there was a certain amount of interest there, between the way he seemed flattered and flustered by Caduceus’ attention, especially when they had met in the community garden, but the way he looked at Jester made his care for her undeniable.

His disappointment surprised him. His mood had been particularly upbeat and cheerful that day, but now he felt a bit like someone had laughed at his foolishness and it left him feeling down. He shook his head. It wasn’t right to let something like this interfere with his job, and part of his job was maintaining the atmosphere of care and contentment that made Melora’s Kettle so popular. He closed his eyes, gave a quick thought on what he cared about--his business, his friends, his family--and walked back into the dining room.

With the tea he returned to Caleb’s table to see Jester with her elbows on the table, her chin in her hands, talking animatedly about something he couldn’t hear until he got close.

“I thought we could go to the bookstore after this,” she said while Caleb nodded. “I want to see if they stock _Bigby’s Hand in Hand_ now that it’s gotten so popular.”

“I’m sure it won’t,” Caleb said modestly, trailing off when Caduceus appeared and placed the kettle on the side of the table.

“I’ve put your order in,” he said, only briefly catching Caleb’s eyes. “And your sorbet should be out shortly. If you need anything don’t hesitate to ask any of the servers.” Caduceus noticed out of the corner of his eye that a large group had just left, leaving enough tables open for the party of eight, and left Caleb and Jester to their tea.

As he seated the large party, he noticed Caleb pouring tea for Jester and felt another pang of disappointment. He had been so sure that it would only take a little push for Caleb to come out of his shell a little. Seeing him open and lit up with another person made him wonder how he’d mistaken the tone of their interactions. He sighed softly through his nose as he went back into the kitchen to get tea for the big party who, according to them, were having a bachelorette party. He made a note to bring a slice of wedding cake to the woman in the tiara, who was introduced as the bride-to-be.

In the kitchen he watched as Ashley, still wearing her hair in double buns, took the sorbet meant for Caleb’s table. “Hey, Ash?” he asked, waiting for her to turn. “Could you take care of table seven for me?” When she answered in the affirmative he went into the refrigerator to pull out a bowl of strawberries and melons. He took a deep breath, thought about how much Caleb’s hair had shone in the doorway, shook off the thought, and went about arranging fruit for his afternoon tea.

* * *

 

When Caleb came to the register to pay, Caduceus noticed that his face was a little less bright than it had been when he first came in, and Caduceus wondered if the fruit had not been as fresh as it looked, or maybe that he had oversteeped the tea, or something else related to the enjoyment of the meal.

“ _H_ _err_ Clay,” Caleb began, handing over a hundred dollar bill and waiting for his change. “I was wondering about that greenhouse. Was the invitation for a tour still open?”

Caduceus smiled brightly. “Yeah, for sure. We’re a little busy right now, but just ask the next time you come and if I’ve got the time I’ll take you back there.” Disappointment aside, it did make him feel good to see Caleb smiling, and if Jester made him happy then there was nothing wrong with that. He still wanted to see the greenhouse, after all, and wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t interested in friendship.

Jester leaned on Caleb and yawned. “I’m sooooo full,” she said, closing her eyes. “You’ll have to carry me to the bookstore.”

“If anyone is carrying anyone you would be carrying me, Miss Muscles,” Caleb teased as Jester flexed with a giggle.

“Thank you for coming to Melora’s Kettle,” Caduceus said as he left the register to Ashley and went back to tend to the party of eight, grabbing a slice of wedding cake from one of the servers who was about to take it to the table. But as he left, out of the corner of his eye, he thought he caught Caleb frowning.


	5. Chapter 5

“Caleb. Caleb. Caaaaaaaaaaleb!”

A hand slammed down onto the open book Caleb had sitting on the desk in front of him. He finally jerked his head up to see Beau, dressed in her monk’s robes, undercut freshly buzzed, looking as though she were the most exhausted person in the world. Next to her sat a stack of what looked like old newspapers, which Caleb knew she had been helping the librarians digitize to make them available online.

“ _Ja_?”

Letting out of grunt of exasperation Beau sat back in her chair. They were in the archives of the Cobalt Soul together, surrounded by large, dark bookshelves crammed with a font of knowledge unmatched anywhere in Zadash. Monks and librarians moved silently through the narrow passages between shelves, casting sharp glances at Beau out of the corners of their eyes.

“You’ve been staring at that one page for the last ten minutes,” she said. “You’re killing me. Archivist Zeenoth said you needed supervision because the books you took out are super old or something but I have been here for _three hours_ and you’re not even reading. What the fuck, man?”

“Sorry.” Caleb looked down at the page, wondering how he’d been staring that long without realizing it. The book wasn’t helpful anyway. The types of magic and artifacts described were interesting but nothing he didn’t know, nothing he could use for class or otherwise. He closed it and set it on top of a pile of thick tomes beside him. “You have been very helpful, Beauregard. I think I am done for the day.”

“Oh thank _god_.” Beau threw her head over the back of her chair, staring at the ceiling. “Did you find anything useful?”

“ _Nein. Nichts_.” Caleb did little to hide his disappointment as he took off his reading glasses. Beau’s face softened by minor degrees and she stood, walking around the table to put a hand on his shoulder.

“You’ll find something eventually. If it’s anywhere it’s gotta be here.” She gestured to the bookcases around them. “Anyway, c’mon. Let’s go get smoothies or something.  My treat. Just hang on a minute.”

Caleb waited in silence while Beau disappeared into the crowd of monks, looking for Archivist Zeenoth so he could collect the books Caleb had been looking at. While she did so, his mind wandered.

His last visit to Melora’s Kettle had gone so differently than the ones prior that he was almost certain that Caduceus was put out by him. Not only had he acted more formal and distant than he’d ever been, he didn’t even serve his table. That was the first time out of the multitude of visits that Caduceus had not been his server, had not come back to fill his cup over and over rather than just placing the pot on the side of the table and letting him do it himself. It wasn’t just not getting special service; it was that it felt so much like a rejection.

Maybe, he thought, Caduceus had caught onto the fact that he had a bit of a crush and was put off by it. Maybe, he thought, the way he’d acted towards him had been inappropriate and the cold shoulder that day was warranted. Whatever it was, Caleb felt a deep disappointment in his gut and wanted nothing more than the walk back through those doors and see Caduceus’ smiling face turn its attention on him.

He considered, briefly, talking to Beau about his new problem--the tall, pastel fuzzy one--but immediately thought better of it. Even though he was confused and saddened, nobody needed to know he had a schoolboy crush on anyone. Nor did anyone need to know that he had spent all of his royalties on tea and scones for the last three months and that he was getting so distracted by his overactive imagination that he was behind on grading essays. It wasn’t as though he was ashamed, but now, as he wondered what he could possibly could have done wrong to warrant the change in Caduceus’ demeanor, he wondered if he should be.

It was then that Beau punched him in the shoulder, not hard enough to hurt, but harder than the punch had needed to be.

“Ow.” He rubbed his shoulder through his coat. “Was that necessary?”

“What’s going on in your head, Caleb? I said your name like, five times and you just stood there staring at the wall.”

“Ah,” Caleb said, taking care to be extra attentive to Beau now that he realized how much he’d drifted off. “Sorry about that. Work has been stressful,” he lied. Beau eyed him up and down, looking as though she was trying to decide whether she believed him or not, then nodded.

“Yeah, I get that. You’ve got like thirty essays to grade at a time? That sounds like a nightmare.”

“It’s not too bad,” he said as they began walking, leaving the library and stepping into the comparatively bright sunlight outside. “I have many talented and determined students and most of them are doing their best.” He sighed. “However, I have found two plagiarists and have at least four students who are clearly not trying. It begins to get disheartening.”

“Sounds like that sucks, man.”

“It’s not the most encouraging, no. But it is part of the job.” Caleb shrugged. “And what about you, Beauregard? They have you scanning things?”

“Uuuugh. So. The entire archive needs to be digitized to preserve everything so the monks don’t have to handle all the rare stuff and put it in danger of falling apart. And we’re putting some of the less secret stuff online too, for academics to access, but Caleb it is sooooooo boring. Scan a page, edit the metadata, scan a page, edit the metadata. I could be working on training or acquisition but nooooo.”

“We often do not do what we want or what would be best for us,” Caleb said, thinking of Nott’s midnight shift at the superstore and his adjunct position, so precarious compared to full-time professors. “Life is not always kind.”

* * *

 

Caleb sat at the back table at Melora’s Kettle with his notebook opened to a blank page. No, not blank, it had one word written on the very top of the page--the title for his new book: _Manners_. He hadn’t written a single word yet as the title had come to him first, but he was energized anyway. The words would come; they might just need a little encouragement.

It had taken a while for Caleb to come back to Melora’s Kettle. While Caduceus _had_ promised him a tour of the greenhouse, his distant demeanor the last time Caleb visited still bothered him. He came anyway and was seated at his favorite table by a server with long black hair. He idly spun his pen between his fingers, walking it from knuckle to knuckle, trying to decide how he should approach Caduceus when, before he had the chance to think on it further, he appeared in front of his table. The warm smile with which Caduceus usually greeted Caleb was there, shining on his face like a beacon and Caleb felt his heartstrings tug at the sight of it. It was amazing how quickly a sense of longing settled into his chest upon seeing Caduceus’ face, and he felt a little heat on his cheeks at how strongly he reacted just by seeing him.

“Mr. Caleb,” Caduceus began, and Caleb felt butterflies in his stomach. He hoped that he had been mistaken, that perhaps Caduceus;’ distance that day was due to him having a bad day (was it possible for him to have a bad day, he wondered) or just because the shop was so packed. “What can I do for you today? Zemnian green and a scone or were you looking for afternoon tea again?”

“Just the green and the scone today,” hes aid as Caduceus made a note on his pad of paper. “I was wondering, _Herr_ Clay, if you had time for that tour of the greenhouse today?” It had taken him a while to work up to being able to ask that. He’d been rehearsing it in his mind on the walk to Melora’s Kettle, and it had been running through his thoughts since he sat down. The brightness on Caduceus’ face made that anxiety melt away, and Caleb found himself more excited than he thought he would be at the prospect of seeing the plants.

“It looks like I’ve got a little time,” Caduceus said after the casting a glance around the tea room. For once it was a little slow, with empty tables by the window, and Caduceus gestured with the pot he was holding. “I’m expecting a big group in about half an hour, but that should be long enough. Would you like to see it now?”

“ _Ja_. That would be nice.” Caleb got to his feet. “Should I leave my things?” He gestured towards his messenger bag and coat, both shed when he’d sat down.

“We’ll only be back there for a few minutes. Ashley?” he asked as the server with the buns in her hair came into view. “Can you keep an eye on Mr. Caleb’s things for him?” When she nodded he gestured for Caleb to follow him into the back of the restaurant.

As soon as Caduceus opened the kitchen doors, Caleb was struck by the scent of baked goods, redolent with butter and cinnamon. Caleb curiously looked around, noting the long marble tables upon which a woman he had never seen before was kneading dough and a man was carefully piping roses on a tray of petit fours.

“Do you make all the banked goods here?” he asked as they walked together, marveling at the dozens and dozens of tea pots sitting on shelves built into the walls, at the hanging plants that flanked those shelves, and at the warm ovens, the lights inside offering a tantalizing peek at what was being baked. Outside of the flour under the woman’s dough, the kitchen was as immaculate and shiny as Caleb thought it could possibly be.

“All of them,” Caduceus said, beaming with pride, from in front of Caleb. “There are a lot of great bakers here, and we also do internships with the baking school nearby.” He led Caleb to the back door of the kitchen, opening it up and gesturing for him to go through.

The backyard of Melora’s Kettle was smaller than Caleb expected and was completely dominated by a greenhouse just slightly smaller than a two-car garage. There was barely enough space to stand between the back door of the restaurant and the front door of the greenhouse. The proximity to Caduceus was almost unbearable; all it would take was raising a hand to brush back the curtain of pink hair hiding Caduceus’ face from him. The temptation was so strong that Caleb ached just thinking about it. He thought he might actually be able to smell him, but couldn’t be sure if it was his imagination or not. While Caleb’s thoughts wandered, Caduceus opened the door and gestured for him to go in.

When Caleb stepped into the greenhouse the first thing he noticed was the fairy lights strung along the roof. At night, he thought, they must have given off a soft, warm glow, illuminating the inside just enough to see. He then noticed the shift in temperature. It had been warm outside but inside it was hot and humid. Beyond that though, it smelled heavenly, all green and fragrant, and as Caleb looked around he realized that there were multiple levels of plants.

There were shelves that held dozens of pots of flowers, from violets to carnations to miniature roses in tiny pots. He thought he recognized some herbs as well, mint, lavender, and tiny chamomile flowers. Under the tables holding the plants were what looked like tool chests, next to those, bags of potting soil and fertilizer, all organized as neatly as Caleb expected it would be after having seen the kitchen. In the corner by the door was a small lemon tree in a pot and the ground, but for a few gravel walkways, was covered in small bushes he assumed must be the tea plants. There were small stakes in the ground every few feet, bearing names that Caleb figured must be the names of the strains.

“Well, here it is,” Caduceus said, coming to stand next to Caleb, looking down at him while he looked around the room.

“It’s really lovely,” said Caleb as he looked around at what seemed like endless green as he spun in place. Unbidden, the images of Caduceus tending to the plants came to his mind, and he envisioned him crouching in the dirt with a trowel and his sunhat, like he had been that afternoon at the community garden, and those images settled warmly in his chest. “Are these all tea?” he asked, pointing to the bushes.

“Yup, and this one over here is over a hundred years old,” he said, pointing at a plant that was tucked into a corner alone. Compared to the others, which were fairly compact little things, this one had spread out and grown taller than the rest. “He likes his space,” Caduceus said lightly as he stepped closer to the plant. “Gets fussy if I plant anything closer.”

“How much tea do you get out of here?” Caleb asked as he watched Caduceus crouch in front of the old tea plant.

“Oh, not a lot.” Caduceus plucked a leaf off of the nearest plant and popped it into his mouth, chewing a second before continuing. “Just enough for a small batch here and there. It’s more of a hobby than anything else.”

“And the flowers?”

“Also a hobby. Sometimes we serve cakes with edible violets, but other than that they’re just here to be pretty.” Caduceus glanced at Caleb out of the corner of his eyes. “Did your date enjoy her time here?”

“My date?” Caleb blinked in confusion at Caduceus, so stunned by the question that he couldn’t put two and two together.

“The tiefling woman,” Caduceus said with a smile. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry--”

It clicked with Caleb then and he couldn’t hear the rest of Caduceus’ sentence. Everything about the way Caduceus acted made sense if he’d thought that he and Jester were dating. The extra attention could have seemed pushy, as though Caduceus was butting in instead of letting Caleb and Jester enjoy their time together. And if that extra attention had been a sign of anything other than Caduceus’ good nature--which it surely wasn’t, he thought--it could have looked like Caduceus was trying to compete with Jester.

“Oh. Oh no. I.” Caleb felt himself turning red as Caduceus turned to look at him. “Jester is a very dear friend and while I care about her greatly there is nothing between us. She is a lovely woman with a lovely girlfriend and we have never dated,” he said emphatically, feeling a flush burning on his cheeks as Caduceus met his eyes. While it seemed highly unlikely that Caduceus harbored the same kind of hidden crush that Caleb had on him, he still felt it was necessary to stress the fact that he wasn’t with Jester, just in case. “I’m single,” he blurted out, immediately regretting it. He felt it made him sound desperate, and he wished he could turn back time and take it back.

A warm smile spread across Caduceus’ face, slow like molasses, and he held Caleb’s eyes. “Huh,” was all he said for a moment, and it looked as though he was taking his time to process the information while he gazed down at Caleb. “Looks like I should be more careful in my assumptions,” he said, an apologetic note in his voice. “Have you ever had a fresh tea leaf, Mr. Caleb?”

Caleb stood silent from a moment from conversational whiplash and being lost in Caduceus’ fuchsia gaze. There was something in that look that Caleb couldn’t comprehend, but it felt significant.

“ _Nein_ ,” he said after gathering his thoughts. “I didn’t even know they were edible that way.”

Caduceus picked a new leaf from the nearest plant and held it out to Caleb. Caleb took it, his fingertips brushing against Caduceus’ and he instantly felt like he might melt into the path, between the tea plants, in the suddenly oppressive heat of the greenhouse. His proximity to Caduceus was overwhelming and everything in him wanted that touch to have lasted longer.

“ _Danke_.” He popped it into his mouth. It was light, sweet, and a little bitter, complex and refreshing. Caleb raised his brows a little, glancing at Caduceus and offering him an impressed expression.

“They’re better when you fry them in tempura batter,” Caduceus said as he watched him eating the leaf with that serene smile still warm on his face. “You should try that someday.”

“I should,” he agreed, though he had no idea where he was supposed to find a restaurant that served fried tea leaves, but he was willing to be believe that if Caduceus liked them they were probably pretty good. The phrase _maybe you could make them for me sometime_ floated into his brain and he swatted it away with vigor. It occurred to him that he’d have to go back to his table and his empty notebook and he tried and failed to come up with any excuse to stay in the greenhouse with Caduceus.

“I should get you back to your table before that big party arrives,” Caduceus said and Caleb almost thought he detected a note of regret in his voice as he led Caleb back to the door. The air outside was cooler and it helped Caleb feel less overheated, though being close to Caduceus meant the feeling didn’t fully go away. He caught a glance at him when he wasn’t looking, at his pale eyelashes and the curve of his cheekbone, at his beard and the fuzzy tips of his ears, and felt that inexorable tug in his chest.

One of two things had to happen, and had to happen soon, he thought as he followed him through the kitchen again. He had to either figure out a way to get rid of a crush--not something he was certain he was capable of doing, given his romantic history, or he had to ask Caduceus out on a date and prepare himself to never return to Melora’s Kettle if he said no. There was, of course, a third option, but the likelihood of Caduceus actually saying yes seemed to slim to actually consider. Neither of the two likely options seemed advisable or possible and he had to suppress a frustrated sigh as he settled back into his chair. He had only been in that greenhouse for ten minutes and an ache longing had bloomed in his chest. He didn’t know when he had begun to admit to himself that he was lonely, but that thought played on repeat like a number one song on the radio.

“Zemnian green with lemon and a scone, right?” Caduceus asked once more when Caleb was seated, and nodded when he answered in the affirmative. “It’ll be right up, just make yourself at home.”

“It always feels that way, like home, I mean,” Caleb said and felt himself turn red to the ears when Caduceus gave him another knowing smile. “You are very hospitable,” he said, trying to explain and digging himself further. “Thank you.”

“Any time, Mr. Caleb. Anything you need,” said Caduceus as he left.

Caleb resisted the urge to fold his arms onto the table and bury his face in them. Instead, he looked at his notebook, still open to the blank page, and tapped his pen on it a few times. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened them he had an idea. So, while Caduceus was off in the kitchen, Caleb began to work on his fourth book, letting himself get lost in the writing process so much that he barely noticed Caduceus coming by his table to drop of the tea and scone. But when he reached for a full cup and found it there he reflected on Caduceus’ words. _Anything you need_.

He was beginning to realize exactly what he needed.  


	6. Chapter 6

It was three o’clock in the afternoon and Caleb was frying bacon. It was good bacon, not too fatty, from the regular grocery store, not the discount one, and Caleb was hoping Nott would enjoy it. Next to him on the counter sat a package in floral wrapping paper; it was on the small side but he knew Nott would be happy with what was inside.

Lured by the smoky smell of frying bacon, Nott ambled into the kitchenette in sweat pants and a t-shirt, the claws on her bare feet clicking on the linoleum. “Aren’t you supposed to be at school?” she asked as she rubbed sleep out of an eye.

“The power went out on the entire campus. Everyone was sent home.” He paused, glancing at the pile of paperwork on the counter next to the package. “My students are ecstatic, and it gives me some time to catch up.” He pointed at the package next to him with his spatula. “This is for you.”

Nott took the package and went to the kitchen table. They had a real table now, found at a garage sale, so the card table had been folded up and hidden in a closet for the time being. They were still stuck with the folding chairs, but having a nice wooden table made the kitchen feel a lot less dingy.

Nott lifted herself into one of the chairs and began unwrapping the package, using her nails to slice through the wrapping paper until she got to the plain white box underneath.

“What’s the occasion?” she asked as she peeled tape off of the box’s seam so she could get in.

“Oh, no occasion.” Caleb used the spatula to place the bacon on a plate covered with a napkin before carefully pouring the bacon grease into an old jam jar. “I just thought you might like something nice.” He set the hot pan onto a cold burner and turned off the stove.

Carefully, Nott pulled a tissue wrapped item out of the box, unwrapping it and setting the paper to the side. Caleb watched as she extracted a fine porcelain teacup from inside the paper. It was white with red roses printed along the sides, with gilt edges and a handle no thicker than a drinking straw. At the bottom of the box was a silver spoon, which she pulled out with a confused expression on her face.

“I thought you were going to take the spoon back to Melora’s Kettle?” she asked while she admired the teacup, eyes wide in awe at its delicate beauty, barely paying Caleb any attention as he dropped two slices of bread into the toaster.

“I tried. _Herr_ Clay insisted you keep it.” While the bacon grease soaked into the napkin, Caleb sliced up a fresh tomato, wrapping half in plastic wrap for later. Nott slid out of the chair and walked into the kitchen, standing on her toes to place the cup on the counter before filling a kettle in the sink and handing it to Caleb to put on the burner. “Going to have tea right away?”

“Well, I’ve got the cup for it, don’t I?” Nott gave Caleb a hug as he pulled the toast of the toaster and placed it on one of their mismatched plates. “Thank you, Caleb.”

Caleb ruffled her hair as she hugged him, leaning down to wrap one arm around her. Straightening up, he turned the burner back on and placed the kettle on it. He dug a box of cheap, off-brand tea bags from the cabinet next to the fridge and offered it to her. “Not very good, but it is tea just the same.”

She took the box. “Caleb, are you becoming a tea snob?” she teased as she took out a bag and placed it into her empty cup. Caleb chuckled softly in the back of his throat as he peeled a couple of pieces of iceberg lettuce off of a head.

“Perhaps I am.” Caleb considered this as he began assembling the BLT he was making for Nott. He _had_ found himself craving the green tea blend he got every time he went to Melora’s Kettle, but he couldn’t figure out if that was just because he liked the tea or because it reminded him of Caduceus. There was a tingle up his spine at that thought, and he tried not to reconsider what he was about to do next. Nott took her sandwich to the table and Caleb followed, gathering up the essays and math homework that needed grading.

“Nott,” he began carefully after he sat, tapping his pen on the stack of papers. “I need your advice.” Nott, who had just taken an enormous bite of her sandwich, nodded. Caleb absently scratched at the inner side of his forearm.  “I.” He sighed, his stomach a knot of nervous energy, wound up and roiling. “There is someone who I am interested in.”

Nott chewed a while before swallowing and asking, “Romantically?”

“ _Ja_.” Caleb felt a flush rise on his cheeks at admitting this. There was a difference between knowing something and making it known, and even sharing this with his closest companion made that nervous knot tighten up more.

Quietly, Nott drummed her fingers on the table, then before taking another bite asked, “Mr. Clay?” she asked with a curious yet knowing note to her voice.

Caleb jolted, his pen clattering to the floor as he dropped it mid-fidget. That flush rose higher and he was certain his ears were bright pink. “You are a remarkably good guesser,” he murmured.

“Well,” Nott set her sandwich down and laced her fingers together, resting her hands on the table in front of her. “I had a suspicion you might have been going to Melora’s Kettle for something other than the tea. You don’t just spend money like that, Caleb, and I’ve always felt like there was something else going on.”

“Ah,” was his only response. He leaned over to pick up the pen and placed it on top of the papers. “Well.” He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “This is not easy for me,” he said softly.

“I know,” Nott replied, reaching across the table to gently put a hand on his. “But it’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with having a crush or wanting to be with someone.”

“I know,” he said, squeezing her hand. “It has been a very long time and it was not...” he sighed deeply. “Things did not end well.”

For a moment Nott just let him squeeze her hand, putting her other hand on top of their linked ones. “Caleb, that was a very long time ago and you’re a different person now. You deserve relationships: friendships, colleagues, romantic partners. Everything.” When Caleb was silent she continued. “What kind of advice do you need?”

“I don’t know.” He tried to let her words sink in. There was a barrier in his mind that had been erected long ago that made it difficult for him to believe a word she said. He knew _she_ believed it, but to look at himself and see worth, to see himself as deserving, seemed difficult at best, impossible at worst.

As for advice, he couldn’t actually fathom what she could help him with. The idea to let her know what was going on had come from a certain amount of desperation to get his feelings off of his chest. Now that they were out in the open, he didn’t know what to ask for. She had, however, had more successful relationships than him and he thought that maybe something that had ensured the success of her marriage could help him somehow.

It was then that the tea kettle whistled. Caleb got to his feet to turn off the burner and pour the boiling water over Nott’s tea bag. He added some sugar from a bag in the cupboard and brought it to her along with a small plate.

“Do you think Mr. Clay is interested in you too?” she asked, going back to her half-finished sandwich while Caleb contemplated. He spun his pen in his fingers for a moment before answering.

“Maybe. I now he spends more time on me than his other patrons, and he gave me a tour of the greenhouse behind the restaurant.”

“You think he’s giving you more attention?”

“Well. He always pours my tea. I don’t see him doing that with other patrons,” Caleb said, feeling his face burn again. In retrospect, that seemed like a pretty clear sign, and he was embarrassed he didn’t recognize it right away. “And he always gives me the table I like, when it’s free, and he’s given me some things I didn’t order for free. Like that chocolate cake I brought you last week. But he does that for other patrons too,” he added quickly.

“That does sound like a lot of attention,” Nott said as she sipped her tea. “And he took you to see the greenhouse too? Well, that’s a good sign!” Her face brightened a little more. “Hey, when you have the money how about we go back? I can keep an eye on him for you and tell you what I think.”

“Well, when I brought Jester he thought it was a date and didn’t even serve my table.”

“How did you know he thought it was a date?”

“Oh, he told me. When we were in the greenhouse he asked how my date went.”

Nott finished her sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. “Did he seem relieved when you told him it wasn’t a date?”

Caleb thought back. Caduceus’ reaction had seemed a little enigmatic, but if he really had to think about it, it _did_ sound like there had been a little relief in that rumbly voice. “Maybe...”

“Caleb.” Nott took the tea bag out of her tea and placed it on the little plate. “I know you’re not always the best at reading people, but if you ask me, Mr. Clay has been trying to give you some signs.”

“But what if he’s just being...what if he’s just trying to keep me as a customer?”

“I can’t say for sure, but I don’t think that he is.” Nott’s tone was gentle but persistent. “I know it’s hard for you to be close to people, but I think it would do you good to ask him out. If he says no, you’re not out anything, and if he says yes you can get a chance to get to know him better. You want that, right?” Caleb only fiddled with his pen more, working his jaw as if to say something before giving her a silent, uncertain look.

“What do you like about him?” Nott asked, and Caleb blinked at her for a minute. When he didn’t answer right away she finished her tea and slid out of her chair to put the dishes in the sink.

“I. I don’t. I don’t know.” Caleb scratched the inside of his forearm. “I suppose it just...feels nice to have someone be kind to me,” he said in what was nearly a whisper, closing his eyes as he thought on why he was so fixated on Caduceus.

“Do you find him attractive?” Nott asked, and Caleb felt that knot in his stomach transform into butterflies as he imagined him: his pink hair, pinned or braided back or hiding his face, his pale eyelashes visible when he got close, even his floppy ears and the tip of his pink nose. There was his height too, and while Caleb had never considered, much less relished, the feeling of being small, there was something appealing about having to look up at Caduceus. Then there was his voice, deep and soothing, and when he called him “Mr. Caleb” it shot shivers down Caleb’s spine.

“Yes,” he said, firmer than he had meant to, and Nott smiled.

“Ask him out,” she urged. “If you really like Mr. Clay, and I think you do, I think you should give it a try. Just ask him to do something casual and if he says no, he says no, but based on what you’ve told me I think you’ve got a higher than fifty percent chance that he says yes.” She reached across the table again, grabbing one of his hands. “I want you to be happy.”

“I am not a very happy man,” he said as he looked at their entwined hands. “But, perhaps you are right.”

“You _deserve_ to be happy,” she said as firmly as Caleb had ever heard her before.

“What would I do without you _mein freund_?” he asked as he squeezed their hands together, silently thanking whatever powers had brought him together with Nott. So much seemed impossible without her by his side, and he kept a grip on hands until she gently extracted them and went to get ready for her graveyard shift.

* * *

 

“Frumpkin! Who’s my good boy?” Caleb called as he entered the apartment. From further inside the sound of an extended, high-pitched meow started somewhere in the back, likely in Caleb’s bedroom, and grew louder as Frumpkin approached. With his tail up he came trotting into the kitchenette where Caleb waited. Caleb, holding a small harness in his hands, crouched and beckoned Frumpkin to come closer. “Come here boy, it’s time to go for a little walk. We’re going to the grocery store.”

Frumpkin stood somewhat still as Caleb strapped him into his little harness, though he tried to rub on his hands whenever they neared his face. Once he was strapped in, Caleb attached a leash to the ring on his back and gathered up some reusable grocery bags from the table by the front door. “Which store do you want to go to?”

Frumpkin answered him with a series of chittering meows and by wrapping himself around Caleb’s feet, tangling him up in the leash.

“Ah, a fine choice. Good boy,” Caleb said, bending again to pet his little head, poking him in the nose when he finished. “We’re going to the nice one then, and maybe we can look at the pet aisle, hmm?”

Once outside, Caleb let Frumpkin lead him as they walked to the nearest grocery store. It was a brisk day but not so chilly that Caleb needed his coat, so he left it behind in favor of an oversized beige sweater. Frumpkin trotted in front of Caleb, stopping to sniff at everything that interested him: trees, flowers, and a fast food wrapper which Caleb stopped to throw in a nearby trash can. “Not for kitties,” he murmured when he tossed it. Frumpkin fussed a little, but continued along on his walk.  

The carts were kept outside of the grocery store and Caleb dropped his bags into the kiddie seat before picking Frumpkin up. “Now, you stay in the cart and we will have no problems,” he said as he placed him on top of the bags. Frumpkin stood on his back legs and placed his paws on Caleb’s chest, leaning to rub his face on Caleb’s slightly scruffy chin. Caleb kissed him on the top of the head, got him to settle down, and went into the grocery store.

Caleb dug a small list out of his pocket as he began to wheel the cart, and Frumpkin, through the store. He was not the greatest cook, and Nott could barely reach the stove even with a step-stool, so the list included a lot of easy things to make, like cold cuts for sandwiches, jars of premade spaghetti sauce, and plenty of inexpensive frozen food that could either be microwaved or took very little time in the stove to cook. Frumpkin settled in on the grocery bags, bright eyes darting around the store though he remained seated while Caleb stopped in front of the produce.

“Mr. Caleb?” From behind Caleb Caduceus’ voice came soft and deep and Caleb felt as though he had been alternately dumped into a pool of cold water then into a hot shower as Caduceus’ voice rolled through him.

The first thing that came to his mind was how shabbily he was dressed. He usually tried to dress up nice to go to Melora’s kettle--work clothes, mostly, not sitting at home on the sofa reading library books clothes. The second thing to come to mind was Nott’s advice, and how little he felt like he could follow it. Frozen in front of the potatoes he realized he was bordering on rude and turned to face Caduceus.

Caduceus was, once again, dressed remarkably differently than he did at Melora’s Kettle--for good reason, obviously he wasn’t at work--and even after two meetings Caleb was starting to get an idea of Caduceus’ sense of fashion. He was wearing drop crotch pants again, this time pale purple, and a long white top with bell sleeves. He was smiling, and Caleb wondered if there was ever an occasion where Caduceus _wasn’t_ smiling.

“ _Herr_ Clay,” he began. “It is good to see you again.” He felt, somewhat foolishly, embarrassed about the contents of his cart when he saw Caduceus’, filled with fresh vegetables and fruit, almond milk and what looked like fresh bread and other items from the bakery.

“And you, Mr. Caleb,” Caduceus said, leaning on his cart a little. “Funny how we keep running into one another like--” Caduceus stopped mid-sentence when his gaze fell on Frumpkin in the kiddie seat. His face lit up even more, not something Caleb thought was possible, and his tail perked up, curled at the tip in a way that looked very similar to how Frumpkin’s tail curled when he was happy. “That is the cutest cat I have ever seen,” said Caduceus as he rounded his cart to get closer. Caleb’s heart thudded in his ears as Caduceus came to stand next to him, close enough for him to realize he was wearing cologne. Nice cologne. Something musky and earthy, not a scent Caleb would have immediately found himself attracted to, but on Caduceus?

“ _Ja_. He is that indeed,” Caleb said with a little smile. He stood to the side so Caduceus could have access to Frumpkin. “You can pet him. He’s very friendly.”

Frumpkin got to his feet as Caduceus raised a big hand to pet him. Caleb watched as Frumpkin headbutted the palm of Caduceus’ hand, purring loud enough for both of them to hear him.

“He is a good judge of character,” Caleb heard himself say, not sure how the words had made it out of his mouth. “So you must be a very good person.”

“I’d like to think so. I try, at least,” Caduceus said with a humble smile while rubbing Frumpkin’s head. “Do you take him shopping with you a lot?”

“Oh, occasionally. I try to get him fresh air when I can.” Frumpkin got on his back legs and grabbed Caduceus’ wrist as he rubbed his face into his palm. Caduceus let out an “aww” that made Caleb’s heart ache. “ _Herr_ Clay,” he began, trying to swallow the lump in his dry throat. “I was wondering...”

Caduceus looked up from Frumpkin expectantly, all pink and grey and fuchsia and smiles.

“Could I have your phone number?” he asked after what felt like an enormous pause that had only lasted seconds. Caduceus’ brows lifted only slightly before he smiled warmly and nodded.

“Of course,” he said and pulled a cell phone in a pink case out of his pocket.

They took the moment necessary to type in the numbers on both of their phones while Caleb reminded himself to buy data and minutes the next time he swung by the cell phone store. The time it took to get Caduceus’ number was long enough for the butterflies in Caleb’s stomach to explode into heat that poured through his body like a flood. He wasn’t sure how he had worked up the nerve to ask for his number--if he actually had worked up to it and not just blurted it out--and actually getting it left him light-headed.

“It was nice seeing you again,” Caduceus said, his voice rumbling in Caleb’s ear due to his proximity, leaving Caleb feeling even weaker in the knees. “But I ought to get going before my frozen food melts,”

Caleb straightened himself up, found steel in his spine, and nodded politely as Caduceus went back to his cart. Frumpkin let out a little meow before circling around on the bags and laying back down.

After Caduceus strolled away with his cart, Caleb leaned over his, feeling a mixture of relief and anxiety. There was no pretending this was friendly interest; seeing the greenhouse could have been interpreted as a measure of curiosity about the business, but this was an undeniable sign of personal interest, wasn’t it? But there was a certain amount of relief in getting it off of his chest. He didn’t have to work him up to ask for his number again, just...had to work himself up to ask for a date. It was a start, though, and as Caleb pulled himself together enough to start shopping again he wondered if Nott would be proud of him.


End file.
